Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Another winner!! Congratulations!
Congratulations, Rachel!! You are the winner in the drawing for Healing Promises!
I hope the rest of you will drop by next week! There will be three new drawings for free books! You don't want to miss them!! LOTS of fun planned here in the Window To My World!
Stay tuned!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Broken Angel by Sigmund Brouwer
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sigmund Brouwer is the author of eighteen best-selling novels for children and adults. His newest book is Fuse of Armageddon and his novel The Last Disciple was featured in Time magazine and on ABC’s Good Morning America. A champion of literacy, he teaches writing workshops for students in schools from the Arctic Circle to inner city Los Angeles. Sigmund is married to Christian recording artist Cindy Morgan, and they and their two daughters divide their time between homes in Red Deer, Alberta, Canada and Nashville, Tennessee.ABOUT THE BOOK
Her birth was shrouded in mystery and tragedy.Her destiny is beyond comprehension.
Her pursuers long to see her broken.
She fights to soar.
A father's love for his daughter…a decision that would change both their lives forever. But who is she really─and why must she now run for her life?
Caitlin's body has made her an outcast, a freak, and the target of vicious bounty hunters. As she begins a perilous journey, she is forced to seek answers for her father's betrayal in the only things she can carry with her─a letter he passes her before forcing her to run, and their shared memories together.
Being hunted forces Caitlyn to partner with two equally lonely companions, one longing to escape the horror of factory life in Appalachia and the others, an unexpected fugitive. Together the three will fight to reach a mysterious group that might be friend or foe, where Caitlyn hopes to uncover the secrets of her past...and the destiny she must fulfill.
In the rough, shadowy hills of Appalachia, a nation carved from the United States following years of government infighting, Caitlyn and her companions are the prey in a terrifying hunt. They must outwit the relentless bounty hunters, skirt an oppressive, ever-watchful society, and find passage over the walls of Appalachia to reveal the dark secrets behind Caitlyn’s existence–and understand her father’s betrayal.
Prepare yourself to experience a chilling America of the very near future, as you discover the unforgettable secret of the Broken Angel.
In this engrossing, lightning-paced story with a post-apocalyptic edge, best-selling author Sigmund Brouwer weaves a heroic, harrowing journey through the path of a treacherous culture only one or two steps removed from our own.
If you would like to read the first chapter, go HERE.
MY REVIEW:
Broken Angel is unlike any book I have ever read. It falls somewhere between fantasy, thriller and suspense. The premise of the book was difficult to grasp initially, but once I understood that the people were living in a closed community dominated by crazy fanatics, I then began to understand who the good guys were and who the bad guys were…I thought. See, no one is who they appear to be in this story. Just about the time you think a bad guy is going to take out a good guy….ooops! He’s not bad he’s good. It’s kind of confusing, but it really keeps you on your toes and moves the story forward.
The main character in the story is a young woman named Caitlyn who suffers from a strange physical malformation that you don’t understand until the very end. Once you understand her problem, it clarifies a lot of things. In the meantime, you are taken on a wild ride through one closed community and into another, more mystical group whose intent for either good or evil depends on who you talk to.
In short, I’m not sure I fully grasped the entire story as I should have. All I know for sure is that the story drew me in, and I didn’t stop reading until I finally reached the end. There are a lot of rather violent scenes in the story, so if you don’t deal well with very twisted thinking, you might not enjoy this book. However, the suspense builds and builds until you grow almost frustrated with the desire to find out how things are going to end.
This is a difficult book for me to talk about, because even though I liked it….when I got to the end, I’m not sure I understood what exactly the author intended. It’s a good read, but it works best for those whose mind goes easily outside the box of common thought. If you like a suspenseful, very different kind of thrill, then this is the book for you! Purchase a copy here today!
House of Dark Shadows by Robert Liparulo
It's May 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour!(Join our alliance! Click the button!) Every 21st, we will feature an author and his/her latest Teen fiction book's FIRST chapter!
and his book:
Thomas Nelson (May 6, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robert Liparulo is an award-winning author of over a thousand published articles and short stories. He is currently a contributing editor for New Man magazine. His work has appeared in Reader's Digest, Travel & Leisure, Modern Bride, Consumers Digest, Chief Executive, and The Arizona Daily Star, among other publications. In addition, he previously worked as a celebrity journalist, interviewing Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Charlton Heston, and others for magazines such as Rocky Road, Preview, and L.A. Weekly. He has sold or optioned three screenplays.Robert is an avid scuba diver, swimmer, reader, traveler, and a law enforcement and military enthusiast. He lives in Colorado with his wife and four children.
Here are some of his titles:
Comes a Horseman
Germ
Deadfall
MY REVIEW:
Ahhhhhhhhgh!!! You can’t do this to me! You drag me into woods so dark they absorb light only to introduce me to a house that shifts sounds around like so many shadows! Then you introduce a family with secrets and move them into this creepy house, and from the moment they arrive it is evident that NOTHING is right! Then you leave me hanging….in the House of Dark Shadows.
Xander and David King find themselves living in a house where nothing is as it seems! Nothing! In your wildest dreams you can’t imagine where these two wind up! There are portals throughout the house that lead everywhere from the local schoolhouse to events in the past that will raise the hair on the back of your neck!! The time they spend “through the portal” will leave you gasping for breath, because you will be holding it every moment until they get back to the creepy house! At first I could have strangled the kids’ dad because he seemed a little too eager to keep secrets about all of the weirdness from his wife and daughter. However, by the time I finally understood his motive…I still wanted to strangle him! But I didn’t feel so bad about that, because his kids wanted to strangle him too!!
If you want to read a good old-fashioned scary tale that will wrap your imagination in new directions, go buy this book today!! Robert Liparulo is the KING of suspenseful thrillers! Teens will eat this up and beg for more! My two teens LOVED IT!! Hey, so did I!! Talk about a cliff-hanger at the end!! You better be thankful that Robert Liparulo released the first two books in the Dreamhouse King series all at once! Buy them both or you’ll be sorry!!
Now, I’ve got to go read the next volume!! Watcher in the Woods here I come!
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
—Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
Prologue
Thirty years ago
The walls of the house absorbed the woman’s screams, until they felt to her as muffled and pointless as yelling underwater. Still, her lungs kept pushing out cries for help. Her attacker carried her over his shoulder. The stench of his sweat filled her nostrils. He paid no heed to her frantic writhing, or the pounding of her fists on his back, or even her fingernails, which dug furrows into his flesh. He simply lumbered, as steadily as a freight train, through the corridors of the big house.
She knew where they were heading, but not where she would end up. In this house, nothing was normal, nothing as it appeared. So while she knew in advance the turns her attacker would take, which hallways and doors he would traverse, their destination was as unknowable as a faraway galaxy. And that meant her taking would be untraceable. She would be unreachable to searchers. To would-be rescuers. To her family— and that realization terrified her more than being grabbed out of her bed. More than the flashes of imagined cruelty she would suffer away from the protection of the people who loved her. More than death.
But then she saw something more terrifying: her children, scrambling to catch up, to help. Their eyes were wide, streaming. They stumbled up the narrow staircase behind her attacker, seeming far below, rising to meet her. The thought of them following her into the chasm of her fate was more than she could stand.
“Go back,” she said, but by this time her throat was raw, her voice weak.
The man reached the landing and turned into another corridor.
Temporarily out of sight, her son yelled, “Mom!” His seven-year-old voice was almost lost in the shrillness of his panic. He appeared on the landing. His socked feet slipped on the hardwood floor and he went down. Behind him, his little sister stopped. She was frightened and confused, too young to do anything more than follow her brother. He clambered up and started to run again.
A hand gripped his shoulder, jarring him back.
The boy’s father had something in his fist: the lamp from his nightstand! He past the boy in the hallway. His bare feet gave him traction.
Thank God, she thought.
He reached her in seconds. With the lamp raised over his head, he grabbed her wrist. He pulled, tried to anchor himself to the floor, to the carpeted runner now covering the wood planks. But the brute under her walked on, tugging him with them. The man yanked on her arm. Pain flared in her shoulder. He might as well have tried pulling her from a car as it sped passed.
She caught a glimpse of the bizarrely shaped light fixtures on the corridor walls—mostly carved faces with glowing eyes. The bulbs flickered in time with her racing heart. She could not remember any of the lights doing that before. It was as though the electrical current running through the wires was responding to a disruption in the way things were supposed to be, a glitch in reality.
“Henry,” she said, pleading, hopeful.
His grip tightened as he stumbled along behind them. He brought the lamp’s heavy base down on her assailant. If the man carrying her flinched, she did not feel it. If he grunted or yelled out, she did not hear it.
What he did was stop. He spun around so quickly, the woman’s husband lost his grip on her. And now facing the other direction, she lost sight of him. Being suddenly denied her husband’s visage felt like getting the wind knocked out of her. She realized he was face to face with the man who’d taken her, and that felt like watching him step off a cliff.
“Nooo!” she screamed, her voice finding some volume. “Henry!”
His hand gripped her ankle, then broke free. The man under her moved in a violent dance, jostling her wildly. He spun again and her head struck the wall.
The lights went out completely . . . . but no, not the lights . . . her consciousness. It came back to her slowly, like the warmth of fire on a blistery day.
She tasted blood. She’d bitten her tongue. She opened her eyes. Henry was crumpled on the floor, receding as she was carried away. The children stood over him, touching him, calling him. Her son’s eyes found hers again. Determination hardened his jaw, pushed away the fear . . . at least a measure of it. He stepped over his father’s legs, coming to her rescue. Henry raised his head, weary, stunned. He reached for the boy, but missed.
Over the huffing breath of the man, the soft patter of her son’s feet reached her ears. How she’d loved that sound, knowing it was bringing him to her. Now she wanted it to carry him away, away from this danger. Her husband called to him in a croaking, strained voice. The boy kept coming.
She spread her arms. Her left hand clutched at open air, but the right one touched a wall. She clawed at it. Her nails snagged the wallpaper. One nail peeled back from her finger and snapped off.
Her assailant turned again, into a room—one of the small antechambers, like a mud room before the real room. He strode straight toward the next threshold.
Her son reached the first door, catching it as it was closing.
“Mom!” Panic etched old-man lines into his young face. His eyes appeared as wide as his mouth. He banged his shoulder on the jamb, trying to hurry in.
“Stay!” she said. She showed him her palms in a “stop” gesture, hoping he would understand, hoping he would obey. She took in his face, as a diver takes in a deep breath before plunging into the depths. He was fully in the antechamber now, reaching for her with both arms, but her captor had already opened the second door and was stepping through. The door was swinging shut behind him.
The light they were stepping into was bright. It swept around her, through the opening, and made pinpoints of the boy’s irises. His blue eyes dazzled. His cheeks glistened with tears. He wore his favorite pajamas—little R2D2s and C3P0s all over them, becoming threadbare and too small for him.
“I—“ she started, meaning to say she loved him, but the brute bounded downward, driving his shoulder into her stomach. Air rushed from her, unformed by vocal chords, tongue, lips. Just air.
“Moooom!” her son screamed. Full of despair. Reaching. Almost to the door.
“Mo—“
The door closed, separating her from her family forever.
1
Now
Saturday, 4:55 P.M.
“Nothing but trees,” the bear said in Xander’s voice. It repeated itself: “Nothing but trees.”
Xander King turned away from the car window and stared into the smiling furry face, with its shiny half-bead eyes and stitched-on nose. He said, “I mean it, Toria. Get that thing out of my face. And turn it off.”
His sister’s hands moved quickly over the teddy bear’s paws, all the while keeping it suspended three inches in front of Xander. The bear said, “I mean it, Toria. Get that—”
At fifteen years old, Xander was too old to be messing around with little-kid toys. He seized the bear, squeezing the paw that silenced it.
“Mom!” Toria yelled. ”Make him give Wuzzy back!” She grabbed for it.
Xander turned away from her, tucking Wuzzy between his body and the car door. Outside his window, nothing but trees—as he had said and Wuzzy had agreed. It reminded him of a movie, as almost everything did. This time, it was The Edge, about a bear intent on eating Anthony Hopkins. An opening shot of the wilderness where it was filmed showed miles and miles of lush forest. Nothing but trees.
A month ago, his dad had announced that he had accepted a position as principal of a school six hundred miles away, and the whole King family had to move from the only home Xander had ever known. It was a place he had never even heard of: Pinedale, almost straight north from their home in Pasadena. Still in California, but barely. Pinedale. The name itself said “hick,” “small,” and “If you don’t die here, you’ll wish you had.” Of course, he had screamed, begged, sulked, and threatened to run away. But in the end here he was, wedged in the back seat with his nine-year-old sister and twelve-year-old brother.
The longer they drove, the thicker the woods grew and the more miserable he became. It was bad enough, leaving his friends, his school—everything!—but to be leaving them for hicksville, in the middle of nowhere, was a stake through his heart.
“Mom!” Toria yelled again, reaching for the bear.
Xander squeezed closer to the door, away from her. He must have put pressure on the bear in the wrong place: It began chanting in Toria’s whiny voice: “Mom! Mom! Mom!”
He frantically squeezed Wuzzy’s paws, but could not make it stop.
“Mom! Mom! Mom!”
The controls in the bear’s arms weren’t working. Frustrated by its continuous one-word poking at his brain—and a little concerned he had broken it and would have to buy her a new one—he looked to his sister for help.
She wasn’t grabbing for it anymore. Just grinning. One of those see-what-happens-when-you-mess-with-me smiles.
“Mom! Mom! Mom!”
Xander was about to show her what happened when you messed with him—the possibilities ranged from a display of his superior vocal volume to ripping Mr. Wuzzy’s arms right off—when the absurdity of it struck him. He cracked up.
“I mean it,” he laughed. “This thing is driving me crazy.” He shook the bear at her. It continued yelling for their mother.
His brother David, who was sitting on the other side of Toria and who had been doing a good job of staying out of the fight, started laughing too. He mimicked the bear, who was mimicking their sister: “Mom! Mom! Mom!”
Mrs. King shifted around in the front passenger seat. She was smiling, but her eyes were curious.
“Xander broke Wuzzy!” Toria whined. “He won’t turn off.” She pulled the bear out of Xander’s hands.
The furry beast stopped talking: “Mo—” Then, blessed silence.
Toria looked from brother to brother and they laugh again.
Xander shrugged. “I guess he just doesn’t like me.”
“He only likes me,” Toria said, hugging it.
“Oh, brother,” David said. He went back to the PSP game that had kept him occupied most of the drive.
Mom raised her eyebrows at Xander and said, “Be nice.”
Xander rolled his eyes. He adjusted his shoulders and wiggled his behind, nudging Toria. “It’s too cramped back here. It may be an SUV, but it isn’t big enough for us anymore.”
“Don’t start that,” his father warned from behind the wheel. He angled the rearview mirror to see his son.
“What?” Xander said, acting innocent.
“I did the same thing with my father,” Dad said. “The car’s too small . . . it uses too much gas . . . it’s too run down . . . ”
Xander smiled. “Well, it is.”
“And if we get a new car, what should we do with this one?”
“Well . . . .” Xander said. “You know. It’d be a safe car for me.” A ten-year-old Toyota 4Runner wasn’t his idea of cool wheels, but it was transportation.
Dad nodded. “Getting you a car is something we can talk about, okay? Let’s see how you do.”
“I have my driver’s permit. You know I’m a good driver.”
“He is,” Toria chimed in.
David added, “And then he can drive us to school.”
“I didn’t mean just the driving,” Dad said. He paused, catching Xander’s eyes in the mirror. “I mean with all of this, the move and everything.”
Xander stared out the window again. He mumbled, “Guess I’ll never get a car, then.”
“Xander?” Dad said. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Nothing.”
“He said he’ll never get a car,” Toria said.
Silence. David’s thumbs clicked furiously over the PSP buttons. Xander was aware of his mom watching him. If he looked, her eyes would be all sad-like, and she would be frowning in sympathy for him. He thought maybe his dad was looking too, but only for an opportunity to explain himself again. Xander didn’t want to hear it. Nothing his old man said would make this okay, would make ripping him out of his world less awful than it was.
“Dad, is the school’s soccer team good? Did they place?” David asked. Xander knew his brother wasn’t happy about the move either, but jumping right into the sport he was so obsessed about went a long way toward making the change something he could handle. Maybe Xander was like that three years ago, just rolling with the punches. He couldn’t remember. But now he had things in his life David didn’t: friends who truly mattered, ones he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. Kids didn’t think that way. Friends could come and go and they adjusted. True, Xander had known his current friends for years, but they hadn’t become like blood until the last year or so.
That got him thinking about Danielle. He pulled his mobile phone from his shirt pocket and checked it. No text messages from her. No calls. She hadn’t replied to the last text he’d sent. He keyed in another: “Forget me already? JK.” But he wasn’t Just Kidding. He knew the score: Out of sight, out of mind. She had said all the right things, like We’ll talk on the phone all the time; You come down and see me and I’ll come up to see you, okay? and I’ll wait for you.
Yeah, sure you will, he thought. Even during the past week, he’d sensed a coldness in her, an emotional distancing. When he’d told his best friend, Dean had shrugged. Trying to sound world-wise, he’d said, “Forget her, dude. She’s a hot young babe. She’s gotta move on. You too. Not like you’re married, right?” Dean had never liked Danielle.
Xander tried to convince himself she was just another friend he was forced to leave behind. But there was a different kind of ache in his chest when he thought about her. A heavy weight in his stomach.
Stop it! he told himself. He flipped his phone closed.
On his mental list of the reasons to hate the move to Pinedale, he moved on to the one titled “career.” He had just started making short films with his buddies, and was pretty sure it was something he would eventually do for a living. They weren’t much, just short skits he and his friends acted out. He and Dean wrote the scripts, did the filming, used computer software to edit an hour of video into five-minute films, and laid music over them. They had six already on YouTube—with an average rating of four-and-a-half stars and a boatload of praise. Xander had dreams of getting a short film into the festival circuit, which of course would lead to offers to do music videos and commercials, probably an Oscar and onto feature movies starring Russell Crowe and Jim Carrey. Pasadena was right next to Hollywood, a twenty-minute drive. You couldn’t ask for a better place to live if you were the next Steven Spielberg. What in God’s creation would he find to film in Pinedale? Trees, he thought glumly, watching them fly past his window.
Dad, addressing David’s soccer concern, said, “We’ll talk about it later.”
Mom reached through the seatbacks to shake Xander’s knee. “It’ll work out,” she whispered.
“Wait a minute,” David said, understanding Dad-talk as well as Xander did. “Are you saying they suck—or that they don’t have a soccer team? You told me they did!”
“I said later, Dae.” His nickname came from Toria’s inability as a toddler to say David. She had also called Xander Xan, but it hadn’t stuck.
David slumped down in his seat.
Xander let the full extent of his misery show on his face for his mother.
She gave his knee a shake, sharing his misery. She was good that way. “Give it some time,” she whispered. “You’ll make new friends and find new things to do. Wait and see.”
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sincerely Mayla Winner!! Congratulations!
Kelly was my winner for the Sincerely Mayla drawing! She has already responded with her snail mail address, so she will soon be enjoying this fabulous book!
Please check out my other give away here, and don't forget to stop back in soon, because there are several other give aways starting next week!
Don't miss the excitement!
Congratulations, Kelly!!!
Monday, May 19, 2008
A View From Lisa Samson's Window! Welcome, Lisa!
It was such a joy to interview Lisa about her latest book, Embrace Me! I hope you will enjoy our brief chat and that you will get to know her many works! Lisa is a terrific lady, and her books really are terrific! Welcome, Lisa!
A burn victim in a freak show and a pastor of a mega-church…where on earth did you find that idea? Was there ever a point in the writing process that you wondered how you would ever get the stories to weave together so seamlessly?
It actually started out with the mega-church pastor because I wanted to explore why we're so enchanted with power: political power, ministerial power, even power within our family structures. The Jesus I read about, while having all the power of Divinity, laid it down and allowed Himself to be nailed to a cross. If this is the God we claim to follow, what in the world happened? Why are we more concerned about growth than discipleship? Politics than purity? Money than mercy? When did it stop being a good thing to lay down our lives for others? And to take it a step further, as Jesus said, (to paraphrase) "Who cares if you love those who love you? Big deal. Anyone can do that. I tell you, love your enemies." I think, when we forget about our Lord's call for love and service, the call to imitate Him, we begin to compromise the nature of the gospel. But our faith is not just in our head, is it? It's in our hands and our feet and our hearts. And it's pricey. We must lay it all down. What does that even look like? That's what I wanted to explore.
The sideshow performer, Valentine, came into being when I saw a lady here in
And yes, there was most definitely a point in the process that I wondered if I could pull off weaving the two stories together. It's such a matter of timing and honestly, sometimes I wondered if it was going to take the same amount of time for each story, because Drew's was getting a little too long! But I always find there are challenges like this when I get into a book. I actually make it that way because I'm always fiddling with point-of-view, structure and voice, trying something new with each book.
A freak show…the word freak speaks of the boldness in your story-telling. Why are people still drawn to what is ugly or frightening with no intent to reach out?
I have no idea, but we are, aren't we? We're glued to our TVs during tragedies. A lot of us watched the second tower fall on September 11; we were glued to the coverage of Shock and Awe knowing full well people were dying as those bomb were exploding; Katrina gave us round the clock coverage. I know this because I was one of those glued to the television set. We seem to be drawn to tragedy in the same way we're drawn to beauty. We are as equally compelled to stare at a deformed person as we are someone who is beautiful. Perhaps moreso because we wonder what the story is behind the pain. It's strange, isn't it?
On page 95 Valentine describes her burns as a filter that screen out everyone false in her life. She describes herself as “an acquired taste for a select few.” Do you think we should – through God’s mercy and grace – acquire a filter of our own so that we live in more real and meaningful relationships with God and man? Can the “filter” be found only amid trial or suffering?
That's such a hard question to answer because we all have our reasons for being who we are. Some of us have no filter, some have one with a grid so tiny and tight nothing can get through. It would be glib of me to say we have to be thoroughly open and transparent and vulnerable, but who can really be that way? I guess, for me, what I hope for is the grace to be who I need to be today with the people God sends my way. If I think too much about being wide open for the rest of my life, it scares me. But today, well, maybe I can handle just today. And yes, I think suffering goes a long way in allowing us to have full, meaningful relationships with both God and man. I've seen too many people who have been through trials or are going through them who have such a way of shining God's love. Maybe suffering is indeed a filter that helps us keeps the truly unimportant from getting inside and agitating us.
On page 289 Augustine speaks rather brutally of the emotions that often accompany our quest for forgiveness; “My heart is crushed – just as it should be. I deserve no less. This is a tired and confusing world, and sometimes doing the right thing makes us feel worse.” Why is it so hard to repent and ask for forgiveness? Is it because it often hurts or is it just totally anathema to the human heart?
I think it's hard to ask forgiveness because we don't want to be turned down. That suggests you'll always be unforgiven. But maybe closer to the top of our emotional chain is just pure old-fashioned pride. To ask someone's forgiveness is to admit we're wrong, or that we've committed a sin against someone, and in a day and age where being right is more important than being loving, asking forgiveness becomes that much more difficult.
What exciting things is God doing in your life right now? Any words of encouragement you would like to share with your readers?
Well, our family is at a fun stage. Ty, my oldest is a senior in high school. She's preparing to do missions work in Appalachia next year before beginning her Freshman year at
To my readers I'd just like to say that God loves you. I often think if we realized how much God loves us, our lives would never be the same. Thanks so much for having me Kim!
Christian Fiction Blog Alliance Presents: Embrace Me by Lisa Samson
MY REVIEW:
“We need forgiveness so badly. Maybe it’s selfish to even ask, but in the receiving we are made free.” (p304)
This is the first of Lisa Samson’s adult novels I’ve ever read. Even as I write these words, my eyes are filled with tears and my heart aches with both joy and sorrow. How do you review a book like this? How do you sum up God’s grace, His mercy, His unending love for His children? For you see, that’s what this story is all about. Lisa Samson shares a story unlike anyone I’ve ever read, and Embrace Me has left my heart changed.
As I began reading this story, it took me a while to fall into the rhythm of Lisa Samson’s style. She alternated between two of the main characters, Valentine and Drew, and it took me a while to understand how these two stories were remotely related. Valentine is a burn victim displaying herself in a “freak” show, and Drew is a charismatic, mega-church pastor doling out empty promises for folks who will give him money to keep his conglomeration going. Both characters are hard-hearted, bitter, wounded people who are beginning to subtly feel God’s tug on their hearts. Neither of them recognizes God as having anything to do with anything, but are they ever in for a resurrection experience!!
I don’t want to give away any of the phenomenal surprises in this book. But I must tell you this…be prepared to meet brutally honest, questioning, hurting people amid the pages of this story. Lisa Samson doesn’t cover up any of the ugliness of human depravity! These characters must learn what their hearts and souls need most of all – God’s forgiveness. Then they must go about learning how to share this most difficult and holy gift with others who have hurt them along life’s way.
I want to share some thought from a couple of characters in the story that I feel sum up a lot about this book and its very poignant message. Valentine finds herself assisting someone who has just been brutally stabbed; “You know,” I say in my mind, “sometimes acid is thrown in your face. And sometimes it’s grace. Both leave you changed somehow. Don’t ask me how it works. If I analyze it, it might go away.” (p95) Later on, a struggling pastor sums up the journey; “I guess this thing called faith is a climb. I always wanted to think of it as a big slide straight into the arms of God who waits at the bottom to catch us. But instead, He’s a God who’s on top of things – and like any mountain you climb, the closer we get to Him, the steeper the terrain.” (p254)
This is a story that reaches deep into the human heart. This is a story that beautifully displays God’s mercy and grace in the lives of His children. DON’T MISS THIS BOOK! Lisa Samson, your story, Embrace Me, is a gift from God. Thank you for sharing it with me!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Lisa Samson is the author of nineteen novels, including the Christy Award winning Songbird. She has been called, "one of the best inspirational novelists in the market today" by Publishers Weekly Magazine. Lisa broke ground in CBA fiction with her novel The Church Ladies, a novel that portrayed honest characters who struggle with their faith. She has continued to offer her readers an edgier experience with books such as Tiger Lillie, The Living End and Women's Intuition. Quaker Summer, set to release in March of 2007, deals with social justice and mercy themes and will be Women of Faith's Novel of the Year. Lisa lives in Kentucky with her husband Will and three children.
You can find out more about Lisa at LisaSamson.com
If you would like to read the first chapter, go HEREIf you want to purchase your own copy, go HERE
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